I woke before dawn in a cold sweat and with my heart pounding wildly. The nightmare had jerked me awake again, and it took a few moments to figure out where I was. Subsequently, I couldn't fall back asleep.
My body ached from yesterday's hunt and scuffle. The village was quiet at this hour, but as soon as I stepped outside, a raspy crow of a rooster sounded in the distance and doors in the yards began to creak – some villagers were already rising at the crack of dawn.
I headed toward the center of the village, where a gathering had been scheduled. The gray morning was just beginning to glow beneath the low clouds. We hadn't been here in daylight for a long time; usually we had to sneak around through the forests and between houses. So every step I took on the deserted street seemed to echo in the windows of those unfamiliar homes: curious eyes peered from behind the shutters, their gaze almost tangible.
By the well, a few old women were already gathered with their buckets. The moment they spotted a familiar figure, they all fell silent at once. One of them even snorted under her breath, "Look, Ieron's son has come out among people…"
My gaze slid toward them, and a smirk flickered inside me. Hah, so they're whispering quietly. I could hear everything just fine. But I didn't complain out loud.
My back wanted to hunch over involuntarily, but I forced myself to stand straight. Not out of fear – just because it was too early for this kind of excursion. In any case, I couldn't abandon what I had started.
The closer I got to the center, the more people I ran into. The village teenagers were already gathering on the main street, each dressed up as if for a holiday: someone in a new coat, someone in sturdy boots. The well-dressed boys and girls were sneakily staring at my tattered coat, my greasy shirt, my scratched hands and bloodied palms. They were watching out of the corners of their eyes and whispering. No one dared say a word to my face, but that only made the feeling worse.
Only one group was looking openly. On an improvised stage of hastily nailed boards stood a few strangers. I recognized them at once – the scholars who had arrived yesterday from the city of Talos. Talia Karrow herself stood on the right, arms crossed on her chest, and on the left was a portly man in a tightly belted brocade caftan with an intricate pattern. He looked dressed for a ball – the only thing missing was a feather in his hat. In our backwater, such attire seemed downright ridiculous. By contrast, the two broad-shouldered guards next to him in half-armor with leather panels looked far more fitting.
But the most notable figure was a tall, thin man in a formal cloak. He stood at the center of the stage, fiddling with something in his fingers. Squinting allowed me to make out threads of living magic streaming between his hands. Delicate beams extended and spread out in rings through the air. My intuition told me this was just a harmless demonstration. The crowd still wasn't paying him much attention yet; the murmur of voices around me only grew louder by the second.
However, soon it was no longer a time for talking. The magical threads, twisting and writhing, spread in an orange glow around the entire square, reached out to the nearest houses, and suddenly closed above us, covering us with something like a transparent dome. I couldn't bring myself to call it a dome – it was more like a sphere, a web of the thinnest living threads connecting everyone into a single whole.
A faint, snake-like hissing sound rippled through the air. It was unpleasant; I got goosebumps all over. More than half the surrounding kids couldn't take it: someone clasped their hands over their ears, someone crouched down, twisting in pain, and some even fell to their knees in the dust. A few squeezed their eyes shut from the pain, but I decided it wasn't that bad. Sure, my ears were ringing, but it was bearable. What worried me more was something else: with every second, what was happening seemed more and more questionable. Another dome? And why?
Then a low, calm voice sounded — loud enough to drown out the hissing and cut off the crowd's moans: "Dear candidates, I welcome all who have arrived!"
I raised my eyes to the stage. The same tall mage in a cloak was speaking. His voice radiated confidence and power, and each word seemed to weigh down on us, forcing us to listen only to him.
He continued, his icy gaze sweeping over us: "Those who do not rise to their feet within two minutes will not be admitted to the selection. Exception only for those who attempt to cheat."
The mage paused for a moment to let us digest what he said, then nodded toward someone off to the side. Talia stepped forward, holding a scroll tied with a ribbon. She added loudly, "In a couple of minutes, a magical scroll with a mana stone will be used for mass teleportation. Those of you who have trouble handling magical loads, please step out of the crowd. Mild dizziness and nausea are possible."
I couldn't help grinning at the phrase "mild dizziness." For some reason, my mind instantly imagined that we were about to hear some fiery inspirational speech and then they'd start recruiting volunteers. But reality turned out to be much more mundane: the crowd was simply being held to the ground by magic, so we would shut up and listen.
Meanwhile, the hissing sound grew stronger. My temples tightened, my ears popped, and my head began to throb. I had to clamp my fingers around my head. My teeth clenched, but I would rather not bend my knees. Let them test me if they needed to, I thought stubbornly.
A strange silence fell over the square; under the pressure, no one dared to speak. But there was movement all around. Some scrambled to their feet, grabbing at their friends' shoulders and brushing dust off their knees. Others, staggering, sank back down again, unable to endure it. Still others just blinked in confusion, not knowing what was happening. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a pair nearby: one boy was dragging his friend along by the arm, and the other, conversely, was shoving him back — each trying to be the first to get up. In the scramble, someone almost ended up elbowing another in the face.
Two minutes felt like an eternity. When the time was up, at most half the kids were still standing. The rest were either on all fours, swaying, or lying face-down, hands clamped over their ears. They must have been in real agony. A heavy silence hung over the square.
The man on the stage savored the silence for another moment, as if relishing it, then lazily raised his hand. In his fingers gleamed the rolled-up scroll — or rather, two charred fragments of it, between which a bright blue light splashed forth. Everyone's breath caught: it was clear the seal had been activated.
The ink on the paper flared up, and the magic stone set in its center began to pour out flowing light. The crowd shuddered as one. A few people collapsed to their knees again. Somewhere in front of me, I heard a short frightened scream, immediately cut off as if the bursting magic had swallowed it up.
The threads surrounding the square snapped back toward the scroll, weaving together into a complex pattern above our heads. The air immediately thickened and became hazy. It became hard to breathe, as if my chest had been filled with quicksand. A hollow ringing sounded in my ears, like the vibration of bones inside my skull.
The ground beneath our feet trembled. Some people panicked and grabbed at others' shoulders to keep from falling. I barely managed to stay upright, gasping out a breath.
The mage on the stage watched us coldly and indifferently — as if this was precisely the way things were supposed to be. He squeezed the scroll a little tighter, and the world around me exploded into blinding light.
It felt as if I were being sucked into a narrow, bright tunnel. I had no thoughts — and no body either — I had become a weightless consciousness floating in a stream of light. Whether it lasted a second or an hour, I couldn't tell. I felt nothing but a tickling emptiness inside.
The first teleportation of my life both frightened and exhilarated me. I had always dreamed of experiencing real magic firsthand — and now it was happening! Who would have thought that one day they would teleport me to who-knows-where…
…A moment later, my boots were already sinking into soft, freshly mown grass. I blinked and looked around. The same village kids stood nearby, but everything around had changed. Under my feet wasn't a dusty square but a perfectly even lawn, and next to it a path paved with stone. In the distance, beyond thick trees, neat little houses came into view: beige walls, roofs of reddish tile. What caught my eye was that these houses had windows going up two or three stories high! I even had to tilt my head back to see them.
"Ugh, country bumpkins…" came a voice from behind me, pulling me out of my examination of the buildings.
I lowered my gaze just in time to see a wisp of magical thread swirling at my feet. Someone nearby was casting a spell. A brief look around caught my attention on someone not far away. His hair was slicked down to his shoulders, the kind of style you might wear under a helmet.
I turned sharply and my shoulder accidentally bumped into his — just a quick, almost inadvertent tap. The man recoiled from me as if I were contagious. He twisted his face in disgust and growled, "Hey, country bumpkin, don't touch me! I might catch something from you…"
Treated like the plague, I thought indignantly. My first instinct was to grab him back so he could "catch it" for real, but drowsiness and overall exhaustion took over. I only yawned broadly, pretending I hadn't heard his insult, and deliberately turned away, ignoring the runt.
The helmet-haired guy was drawing a breath, apparently ready to throw another barbed comment my way, but his momentum was suddenly stopped. A loud hiss sounded — far more powerful than the one in the square — and it was as if an invisible hand pushed him. He collapsed onto his knees, twisting in pain and clutching at his throat.
A pain flared up in my temples again at that sound. A muffled groan escaped my chest, and my hands clutched my head on their own — it felt like my skull was about to split in two.
A resonant, commanding voice floated in the air: "Greetings to all who are not yet acquainted with me. I am Rector Tallor Aloni."
Blinking heavily, I raised my eyes. Above us, right on top of the hissing threads, hung a bright hologram — an illusion depicting a tall gray-haired man in a black mantle. The illusory rector looked at the newcomers with a stern half-smile.
"Today you step onto the path that leads to the glorious future of our Empire. Here in the Academy, you will become strong and educated. You will receive everything necessary for your growth: knowledge, skills, the support of mentors… and, of course, scholarships for the most deserving," the voice boomed out clearly.
He paused for a few seconds, letting the grand words sink into our minds.
"For your full induction into the ranks of the Academy, follow the stone path to the arena and take seats in the bleachers. There you will be assigned to your dormitories and classrooms. Try not to get lost and do not cause any trouble… That is all. I wish you good luck," the rector finished, lifting his chin slightly.
The illusion slowly faded from the air. Along with it, the oppressive feeling lifted, as if chains had fallen away. The threads also dispersed — simply vanished, as though they had never been there.
The crowd immediately began to chatter. Everyone rushed off down the indicated stone path. Hundreds of footsteps echoed through the building, but no one was speaking loudly; after the rector's speech, people were talking only in hushed tones.
I walked along with the others, turning my head to look all around. The world around me was staggering in its novelty. Buildings sprang up like mushrooms, taller and sturdier than any village huts I had known. Benches, fountains, statues — along the way there were many things I had never seen before. I felt like a puppy in a new place.
Ahead loomed a massive round structure, like an amphitheater. That must be the arena they directed us to. Majestic columns and arches stood at the entrance. We walked inside — and I had to tilt my head back: the ceilings went so high that even a troll could hide up there. The walls, made of smooth pale stone, sparkled with tiny crystals. These gems weren't aflame, yet they glowed softly on their own, bathing everything in a warm golden light without a single shadow. One couldn't help but gasp.
But I didn't get to gape for long — I was distracted by a scream somewhere nearby. I turned and just caught the tail end of the scene: a boy in a rough canvas outfit — clearly from the village too — had bumped into a girl in a long dress embroidered with patterns and beads along the hem. The girl spun around instantly, and the ground under the boy's feet heaved up. Before he could even understand what was happening, his face was slammed into the stone floor. An invisible force pressed him into the ground as if the earth itself had grabbed him and pinned him down.
"Pathetic animal… I hear no apology for that vile touch!" the girl spat through clenched teeth.
She spoke quietly, but in the sudden silence I caught almost every word. Her venomous tirade went on for probably a minute. The boy tried to shout something, but only choked on dust. Finally, a pitiful wheeze escaped from him: "I… I'm sorry…" Only then did the noblewoman allow the earth to release its victim. The boy lay there, gasping and coughing, while she lazily shook off her skirt, adjusted the folds of her dress, and walked on as if nothing had happened.
The crowd cleared a path for her. Some watched her with awe and admiration; others with shock and fear. One thing became clear to me personally: you do not joke around with the local aristocracy.
When she finally disappeared, the crowd hurried back into the arena. I looked around and picked a spot toward the middle of the bleachers. Tension hung in the air again. My gut told me: something was about to happen.
For a moment, my imagination conjured a scene from a nightmare: what if they forced us to fight each other? A strange foreboding, as if the crowd of young people would break loose and become a wild brawl. The mental image of fighting my way through the mass just to avoid being trampled was all too vivid. Ugh, I got goosebumps just thinking about it. I really hoped we would avoid any surprises like that.
At that moment, a man in a long robe suddenly soared above the arena. He stood on a massive block of ice floating in midair. A deep hood hid his face, hiding both his eyes and facial features. But the bursts of magic threads were clearly visible — it was definitely one of the professors, pulling those threads into his mouth.
"Stand up and sit down!" a booming, commanding voice resonated so loudly that my ears buzzed. "We will now call out groups of twenty people — by first names, last names, or hometown. When you hear your group, come down for assignment."
The voice was harsh and abrupt. I grimaced, but at least it was clear: they wouldn't make us brawl with each other after all; everything would be boring and organized. Thank God.
As I climbed toward the middle of the benches, chatter rose all around. People fussed, trying to get as close to the aisle as possible. I only managed to sit on the very edge; next to me squeezed in two others as humble as I — a boy and a girl, apparently from some distant villages. They stared around with their mouths open, eyes wide with excitement. No surprise there — we'd had enough excitement to last a lifetime just this morning.
The distribution process began. First, loudly (amplified by magic) they called out the aristocratic families and anyone with a prestigious surname. They, parading with importance, went up to get their assignments first. In the center of the arena, behind a long table, sat about a dozen instructors — men and women of various ages, from gray-haired veterans to the very young. Each new group of arrivals spent less than a minute at the table before being escorted out the arena exit. It was smooth and fast, like an assembly line.
It took about forty minutes for our forgotten province to be called. By that time the noise had quieted down a bit — most people had already left — but my tension had soared. My heart was pounding: it was our turn soon.
Then I heard my village's name on the loudspeaker. I stood up, trying to breathe evenly. Among the hundred or so people here, only a small fraction knew me personally. But as soon as I stood, I immediately felt dozens of piercing stares. Goosebumps crawled up my back. You didn't need to be a mind-reader to guess what they were whispering. Still, I forced myself to go down to the table looking as calm as possible.
At the tables, a girl of about seventeen — apparently an upperclassman — met me. She silently nodded, indicating where I should go, and led me to one of the instructors. We were seated so that each student had their own instructor in front of them. I quickly looked over our group of ten: on the left sat a burly gray-haired man with a face full of scars; next to him, a stout woman with a long black braid; a bit further away, a thin instructor with glasses, pale as chalk… Each was so different, but each looked at us with a keen, assessing gaze.
Sitting in front of me was a slender woman with a dark patch over her left eye. Her right eye fixed on me as I sat down on the stool. No smile, no gesture — just a sharp voice briskly firing off questions: "Name, surname, previous occupation? Any special skills or talents? Can you use mana? Is your core awakened?"
I swallowed. Honestly, the surprise almost made me forget my own name. I pulled myself together and answered truthfully: "Edric, no surname. Hunter… well, I do hunting and gathering. No special skills. I can't use mana, my core is… um, not awakened."
My voice quivered slightly on the last word. But the one-eyed instructor didn't flinch. She held a short pause, then asked the final question: "Goals? Ambitions?"
I hesitated for only a moment. But what could I possibly say? Blurt out some grand ambition like "to become a great mage" or "to be a commander"? Foolish… I only knew the truth. "To survive," I said quietly, looking her straight in the eye.
The woman's thin lips twitched — it seemed she gave a faint nod.
"Class B-2. Room two hundred sixteen, second floor, male dormitory with a green roof. From the main entrance of the arena, immediately turn left — don't miss it," she rattled off. With a nod, she indicated that I was dismissed.
That was it. I was given a paper card with the number of my group and room. Time to move on. Before I left, my eyes skimmed around. Towering buildings stood all around — things I'd never seen before. Just the academic building alone was something: forty windows in a row at least, stretching off into the distance… But especially prominent was the building with the green-tiled roof a little further off. That must be the dormitory.
For a moment, panic hit me: which way now? I had to figure it out on my own from here. However, nearby another three newly minted cadets — two guys and a girl — were lingering by the entrance, whispering and arguing about where to go. A brief look told me: the widest and tallest doorway was clearly the main entrance.
The decision came quickly. I gave a slight nod and headed toward that entrance. The others slipped in behind me without hesitation.
It was a strange feeling. Where did they get the confidence, as if they knew the way? Why were they following as if we were old friends? After all, this was all new to everyone… But I didn't feel like arguing or explaining anything. It just so happened that my attention was a little keener.
Above the central entrance to the dormitory hung a sign: "Newcomers this way." You could guess it even without hints.
The dormitory building turned out to be right there — we reached it in under five minutes. Our group of four stopped at the entrance and all looked up at once. The building was enormous, far wider and taller than any houses I was used to. But what really caught my eye were the doors: there were three of them, each a different size. One was simply gigantic — maybe six meters high — and had a doorknob almost as big as my head, and placed half a meter above my own head. The second door was normal human size, just over two meters tall, with a completely ordinary doorknob. The third door was tiny — less than a meter and a half tall, as if for a child… or a dwarf. I choked out an admiring laugh: obviously the Academy accepted beings of all possible races and sizes, even the most unusual.
We exchanged glances but said nothing — and each of us went in through the door that fit our stature. Of course I went in the middle one.
Inside I found a spacious hall. I froze in the doorway for a couple of seconds — it literally took my breath away. Imagining such a building after village life was beyond belief. Tall columns supported the ceiling, which disappeared somewhere in semi-darkness. The walls had a soft white-gray sheen — whether by magic or special stone, I couldn't tell. Everything was spotless, not a speck of dust, and there was so much space — like a city square. Honestly, I felt dizzy: everything was too enormous, too bright and… alien. Not like a home, more like some kind of grand amphitheater.
Dozens of boys my age were already milling around along the walls. A hum of voices filled the space, echoing under the arches. To the right of the entrance I noticed a glass window, like those in guild post offices. The window was open, but a grille covered it. A small line of newcomers had formed at the counter. Behind the glass sat a thin man with round spectacles, checking names against a list and handing each person a small wooden card.
"Name, surname, room number," I heard him call out every few seconds.
I joined the back of the line. When my turn came, I gave my name. The little man behind the glass quickly ran his finger down the list, raised an eyebrow as he looked at me over his glasses — as if to say "really, no surname?" — but he said nothing out loud. He just shrugged and slipped a wooden keycard under the grille to me.
Inside were three keys. One smaller one for the room, a larger one for a personal locker, and a flat one with a number for a library locker, each labeled. I carefully transferred the keys to my palm and suddenly felt a strange thrill: for the first time in my life, I had my own set of keys! Back in my village, many houses weren't locked at all, and nobody had any valuables worth securing. Keys were a rarity. And here — I had three of them, all mine.
These thoughts were buzzing in the back of my mind as my legs carried me down the corridor. Signs under the ceiling pointed the way to the rooms. Second staircase, left wing, third turn — I think that's right. Soon I found the corridor I needed and the door with the oval sign "216". My heart clenched in excitement: what awaited me behind this door?
The small key slipped into the keyhole, turned, and the lock clicked. The heavy oak door gave way and I stepped across the threshold. The room greeted me with a space flooded by light: opposite the entrance, two gigantic windows almost the full height of the wall faced me. In the daylight I saw four beds in the corners. Belongings already lay on two of them, and on those mattresses sat their owners — two unfamiliar boys.
As soon as they saw a stranger, their quiet conversation stopped instantly. Both stared at me with the same look, as if someone covered in manure had crept into the room. One of them grimaced, covering his nose with his hand. The other demonstratively did the same and even shook his head.
My body tensed involuntarily. Seriously, was this going to happen here too?
But they didn't cause a scene. They just glanced at each other and snickered. Finally one of them — the one sitting on the right — spoke up with a mock sigh, "Oh, too bad you're not a new nobleman… But what can you do, luck isn't endless." He waved a hand toward the two free beds. "Pick whichever one is left, friend."
"Friend" … nice word. If I were in his place, I wouldn't call a stranger that casually. Although maybe he was just being polite.
I nodded, keeping my emotions in check, and headed for the bed by the window. I sat down and let my duffel bag tumble to the floor at my feet. I would rather not pretend I was thrilled to meet them, so I delicately turned to face the window. Below the dormitory stretched an entire city bathed in steady daylight. Somewhere out there on the horizon, a sea, or lake glinted blue. Beautiful, no doubt… but my thoughts were revolving around something else at the moment.
I suddenly realized that I was utterly exhausted. I could barely stay upright, to be honest. My eyelids were heavy, and my whole body ached, as if I'd been beaten with hammers. How I wanted to collapse right here and sleep for a few hours… But I couldn't. Surely there would be more orientation or classes ahead. And moreover, my stomach was making its presence known — I hadn't eaten anything since morning.
"Wow, you went right to sleep!" a mocking half-whisper sounded behind me. "Life in the boondocks sure is tough if you're trying to nap at every chance, huh?"
One roommate was whispering to another, clearly assuming I wouldn't hear him. No way — my hearing was fine. I turned on them immediately, fixing my gaze on the pair. The whisper stopped instantly.
The other roommate — the one with hair sticking out in all directions — raised an eyebrow and hastily raised his hands. "Just a harmless joke, friend. We, uh, didn't mean anything…"
I didn't continue that conversation. My silence made it clear that I'd heard them — and that they better stop gossiping behind my back. The first boy who'd said "friend" smacked his companion on the knee and told him to pipe down, rolling his eyes. They fell quiet. An awkward silence hung for a dozen seconds.
Then the door slammed so loudly that all four of us jumped. The entire room shook from the impact. A short, stocky guy with a completely bald head burst in. He literally kicked the door open so hard that the hinges groaned. I actually stood there with my mouth slightly open — what an entrance.
The stranger strode inside and glanced quickly at the three of us. His face was long, with a heavy chin and thick eyebrows hanging over his eyes; his ears stuck out to the sides like leaves. Not ugly, of course, but the image that immediately popped into my mind was "goblin." A truly brazen goblin had just burst into our room.
My two new roommates froze where they sat, eyes looking down as if I didn't even exist. Whether this man was an enemy or a friend — it was unclear, but one thing was obvious: neither of them wanted anything to do with him.
Only I remained standing, hands on hips. Yes, it turned out—of the four of us, I was the one standing closest to the door, facing the upstart. He kept drilling holes in me with his eyes.
"Who's the boss here?!" the newcomer thundered, without so much as saying hello. "And where can I dump my stuff?"
"The boss? Are you crazy?" I retorted with a scowl. "Who are you calling the boss?"
The guy's eyes bulged, and for a moment I thought maybe I'd gone too far. But he still said nothing. Instead, he ripped a bag off his shoulder and flung it in my direction, at me, the uninvited roommate. Of course it wasn't aimed well.
I had to duck sharply. The heavy duffel bag whistled past my ear and with a muffled thud fell onto the bed behind me. Plates and other items tumbled out of it, crashing onto the floor. His aim was clearly lousy — far below average.
Too bad to celebrate just yet. No sooner had my body started to straighten out than something else caught my eye, flying after the bag. A rock? Too fast. Too close. A chunk of stone was hurtling straight at my head…